


Never Too Late

by The_Lady_Crane



Series: IkeSoren Week 2021 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, I Tried, IkeSoren Week 2021, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Nostalgia, Past Child Abuse, Post-Canon, Psychological Trauma, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28544316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lady_Crane/pseuds/The_Lady_Crane
Summary: Ike sometimes wishes that he could turn back time and relive his childhood. Or at least, that he could have appreciated what he had while he still had it.---For IkeSoren Week 2021Day 1: "Childhood"
Relationships: Ike/Senerio | Soren
Series: IkeSoren Week 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091183
Comments: 16
Kudos: 33
Collections: IkeSoren Week 2021





	Never Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Ike/Soren Week, everyone!!! I've been so excited for this! My writing isn't the best, and I often struggled to come up with ideas, but I am ready for this! I hope. lol Let's get some Ike/Soren creativity going, here!

It’s a beautiful night in the desert when Ike decides that he wants to turn back time a bit.

He and Soren have been traveling for weeks now. Their journey through Hatari has taken them to many new places and experiences, but it’s a small playground on the edge of a tiny town that really gives Ike pause. His feet skid a little in the loose sand, prompting Soren to stop and look back at him. “Ike?”

In the dark of the desert night, Soren’s eyes glow just slightly. The moon is a slim crescent in the sky, almost diminished by the dazzling stars all around it. Ike looks over at the little playground. Two swings, a structure made for climbing, and a smooth wooden slide have been coated in protective oils to keep them from wearing down. Ike feels the slightly metallic texture beneath his fingers as he runs his hand along one of the support poles for the swings.

“Ike, what are you doing?” Soren’s question finally draws Ike out of his thoughts. His loose desert garments flow around him on the breeze.

“Just thinking that the kids around here are lucky,” Ike says.

Soren gives the playground an appraising look. “It must have cost a lot to set this up and maintain it,” he says. “Importing the lumber alone must have required a considerable amount of money.”

“Yeah.” That hadn’t been precisely what Ike had been thinking about, but Soren does have a point. This is the kind of small town that spends its taxes on things like this – luxuries for its citizens, rather than arms for their soldiers. Ike doubts that many of the people here even have to sign up for the military. It’s a peaceful land. Swords and lances in this part of Hatari are used more for sport than for protection, simply because few outsiders could withstand the harsh journey to the country’s more populated interior.

“Do you need to rest?”

Ike gives Soren a reassuring smile, though his face is shadowed. “No, I was just thinking…” he trails off, not really sure how to finish. He can’t exactly pinpoint where his thoughts were going.

Instead of interrogating him, Soren just stands by silently. Ike is grateful for this. Soren seems to know when he should pry, and when he should just let Ike be. The swordsman sits on the swing closest to him and begins rocking back and forth a little, one hand gripping the chain and the other gripping his sword hilt.

As a child, Ike had never had occasion to enjoy things like this. The towns around where he had grown up were all too poor to afford playground equipment. His father had built a swing in the old tree at the fort, but mercenary life kept Ike too busy to spend much time on it. Often, he had gone out and found things to occupy himself, wanting to seem more mature than his age. He had left the swing to Mist and Rolf. That had been his own fault.

His gaze drifts to Soren, a slim shadow against the glowing white sands. He wonders if Soren had ever been able to play. He had spent so much of his childhood just trying to survive, Ike doubts that he had ever done anything like this.

“Come here,” Ike says, holding out his hand.

Soren seems unsure for a moment, but he obeys, stepping lightly over the sand. His hand finds Ike’s, and Ike pulls him closer, so that Soren is standing between Ike’s knees. “Have you ever played on a swing before?” Ike askes.

“No,” Soren says warily. “Why?”

Without another word, Ike’s arms encircle Soren’s waist. The sage gasps as Ike pulls him up, lifting him so that Soren is forced to straddle Ike’s lap. With his feet dangling in the air behind Ike, and Ike’s arm braced around Soren’s waist, the sage has no choice but to cling to Ike’s shoulders for support. “What are you doing?” Soren is alarmed, but not afraid. Ike would never hurt him; Soren knows that, and Ike knows that Soren trusts him. But he still has no clue what Ike is thinking.

Ike is looking into luminescent crimson eyes as he begins pushing against the ground, letting his cloth-wrapped toes catch in the sand so he can gain leverage to push harder. The air shifts around them, dust pluming in the air with each powerful kick of Ike’s legs. He brings both arms up so he can hold onto the chains, and Soren grips him harder, pulling them closer together as they gain momentum.

The world falls out of focus for Ike, and he imagines that they’re back in the forest, swinging on the old wooden seat that Greil had set up. Ike remembers doing this once or twice, when he’d thought that nobody was looking. After Soren joined the company, Ike had stopped, too embarrassed to continue with someone else his age watching him. But now, he imagines that they are twelve again. He imagines that he stops training, just for a moment, to ask Soren to swing with him. To play with him.

Neither of them had ever really been children. Ike wishes that he could have paid more attention when he was young, that he hadn’t been so focused on growing up. He doesn’t remember much of his early childhood. It’s still a hazy time in his life, and he wishes now more than ever that he could step back in time and relive it. He wishes that he had enjoyed it more.

Without being told, Soren seems to catch on. He rocks his body with Ike’s, helps Ike swing them both back and forth, higher and higher, until the poles are straining against their weight. Ike doesn’t doubt that Soren is worried about the whole structure collapsing, but Ike doesn’t care right now. He just feels the motion, the rushing, whirling, free feeling of being in the air.

He’s smiling, though he can feel tears flying off of his cheeks. Soren buries his face in Ike’s shoulder. His goal is to keep himself stable, but the contact is comforting. Ike wonders if maybe he’s lost his mind, and that’s why they’re swinging on a playground in the middle of the night. He wonders if he’s broken, if the wars have left him insane. After Ashera, he’s felt less in control of himself. Now, he feels like all of his emotions are trying to express themselves at once. He wants to grieve for the time he lost as a child, and for the time Soren lost. For the time they could have spent together. For his father, for Zelgius, for everyone who had died.

He wants to lash out in rage, to curse the goddess who caused so much pain. He wants to just let it all go and let himself laugh again. He wants to remember his mother; he wants to remember her smile and her voice and the way she made him feel. He wants to bridge the gap between now and then. It really is a maddening feeling, and he’s quite sure that he’s lost his marbles now.

Then again, he thinks, does it really matter?

Ike thinks that even if he is insane, there’s nothing to worry about. They’re free now. If he wants to play on a swing, then who’s going to stop him? He pumps his legs harder, and Soren finally gives a yelp. Black hair surrounds Ike’s face, only to flow away as they swing backward again.

The moment becomes a true flight of fancy when Ike lets go of the chains.

The next thing he knows, he’s spitting up sand and shaking it out of his eyes. Soren is on top of him, holding on for dear life. Ike has only a vague recollection of releasing them into the air on the backswing, and this is confirmed when he lifts his head and sees the playground several feet away. Crashing down to earth has shaken him out of his odd mood, and now he feels like a drunk who has just gotten a bucket of cold water to the face. He reaches up to embrace Soren, gently checking for injuries.

“Are you alright?” he asks, and Soren looks up at him, glaring for all he’s worth.

“The next time you decide to get us killed, you might want to try a cliff!” Soren’s voice is trembling as much as his body.

Ike can’t help it; he laughs.

“What’s gotten into you?!” Soren pushes off and combs back his hair with his fingers.

“Sorry, sorry!” Ike sits up and helps Soren to get his clothes back in order. “I don’t know what I was doing. I just… I was thinking about when we were younger.”

“Were you?” Soren sniffs and sneezes. “You might want to keep your feet on the ground if you’re going to stroll down memory lane.”

Ike’s chuckles subside, though he’s still smiling. “I wish I’d played with you more,” he says after a moment.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you remember that old swing that Dad put up?”

“Vaguely.”

Ike falls back again, the shock absorbed by the sand. “I used to play on it when nobody was around, but I felt childish doing it. After you came, I thought you’d make fun of me if I did.”

“You _were_ a child.” Soren settles next to him, his legs folded beneath him. “I wouldn’t have begrudged you a moment or two of playfulness.”

“So were you.” Now Ike’s expression is serious as he gazes up at the stars. “I should have asked you to play, too. I didn’t know how soon we’d have to grow up.”

“That’s enough.”

Ike falls silent as Soren leans over him. Ebony hair closes in around him, obscuring his view. “You can’t turn back time, Ike. You can’t undo what’s already been done.”

“If I had just known…”

“You couldn’t have known.” Soren leans further down, and Ike feels soft lips brush against the tip of his nose. “Stop dwelling on it. Neither of us could have predicted the future, and nobody can reverse the flow of time. There’s no point in thinking about it too deeply.”

Ike sits up, gathering Soren into his arms as he does. “I know. You’re right. But… Soren, don’t you ever think about it? What if I’d convinced you to come back with me that day? What if you’d joined our family? We could have…”

“Shh.” Soren kisses him again, a meeting of lips this time.

Ike huffs and holds Soren closer. “I know, I know… You’re always right.”

“Never forget it.” Another kiss planted on Ike’s jaw has him smiling slightly. “Stop thinking about it. You’re not usually one to dwell in the past, so let it be.”

“… Yeah. OK.” Ike stands, and helps Soren to his feet, as well. “We’re here now. That’s what matters.”

“Precisely.”

Ike holds out his hand again. “So, do you wanna play?”

Soren doesn’t even have to think about accepting. “I will, Ike.” He puts his hand in Ike’s and their fingers lace together. “Just don’t launch us off of the swing again.”

“I used to love jumping off,” Ike admits as he leads Soren back towards the swings. There’s a bounce in his step now. He hasn’t felt this light in a long time.

Soren holds onto Ike’s hand until Ike flops down on the swing seat, and then he lets go. “I’d better get my own,” he says, sitting on the swing next to Ike’s. “I do _not_ like being thrown off, thank you very much.”

Ike just shrugs, and then pushes off into the air again.


End file.
